


Do Things I Never Thought

by Awriterwrites



Series: Devil in your Smile (it's chasing me) [3]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Louis in panties!, M/M, Smut, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 08:07:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9375851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awriterwrites/pseuds/Awriterwrites
Summary: Louis finds himself in a predicament.  It involves a pair of red lace panties, a newly turned boyfriend and a misunderstanding.ORVampire Louis makes it up to Vampire Harry when a newly discovered kink goes awry.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a prompt challenge that a group of us are participating in for the prompt "Bloodsucker". To read the other amazing fics that were written by the others on this prompt, you can [click here](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bloodsucker/works) and to see all fics written as part of the challenge, you can [click here](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/2017_hl_prompt_challenge/works). 
> 
> This is also a timestamp for my Devil in your Smile (it's chasing me) series. To see all fics written as part of this series, you can [click here](http://archiveofourown.org/series/622547). 
> 
> I personally, would like to thank @twopoppies for taking her time to very last minute beta this for me and provide me with lovely, thoughtful feedback. I appreciate you always. xx

“You...you... _bloodsucker_.”

And it’s not that Louis isn’t taking him seriously.  He is.  It’s just that Harry looks so _cute_ when he’s angry.  Like a disgruntled kitten or something.  His hair is rumpled and his face is contorted and starting to pink with anger and it’s so freaking _cute_?

“I’m — well, darling... That’s not exactly a _secret_.”  Louis tries for seductive and teasing but it comes out more like...awwww: cute little baby.

“Don’t be so condescending.”  Harry jabs a finger toward Louis as he stalks across the room and picks up the offending item. “You — you — “

“Bloodsucker?”  Louis murmurs, as he watches — hiding behind his hands because if Harry sees him smiling, laughing at him, he’ll be in big trouble.  Harry fumes and huffs and puffs like a church mouse that’s lost its cheese.  He tries to hold it together, though, because if he keeps it up he might have to sleep on the sofa.  That makes him want to laugh even harder.  Because it’s been _decades_ since he’s been relegated to a sofa.  

“Babe,” Louis tries.

Harry just flings the underwear at him.  The lacy red panties land squarely in Louis’ lap and he just shakes.  He’s laughing now.  Oh, god help him, he’s laughing.  

“Are you…?  What the fuck, Lou?  You’re laughing at me.”  Harry’s deep ragged voice drips venom, and hurt.  But most of all pure, unadulterated anger.  “You’re an _asshole_.”  He spits out.  And Louis just shakes helplessly, lost to the absurdity of it all, as he watches Harry stalk out of the room, slamming the bedroom door as he goes.  

Ah shit.  He’s going to have to do some backpedaling, that’s for sure.

****

It all started when Harry was riding him on a typical Monday night.

It was typical because Louis had just brewed up a batch of synthetic blood, using Zayn’s mum’s secret recipe.  It was typical because they had watched an inane American football game, as per usual, and had drank heavily from the aforementioned synth blood.  Harry, also as per usual, had had a wee bit too much, and he was tipsy.

Which was _hot_.  

Harry’s regular speaking voice was slow, methodical, with just enough rasp to get Louis’ non-existent heart racing.  His drunk speaking voice had this _slur_ to it with a thickness in his Cheshire accent that made Louis want to _do things_ to him.  Naughty, sinful things.  

Which is why, with a half hard dick presenting _quite_ the distraction in his pants — Louis had pulled Harry toward him on the sofa, grazing his teeth across the paper thin skin of his inner wrist.  Harry let out this gorgeous little moan that made Louis want to _devour_ him and he almost succeeded in pulling Harry across his lap when Harry’s vision glazed over and he stopped, staring at the television screen.

“ _Oh_ ,” he said, mouth hanging open, fangs dropping down pointedly.  Louis’ cock definitely did not twitch at Harry’s obvious arousal.

He followed Harry’s gaze and saw a Victoria’s Secret commercial on the screen across the room.  Puzzled he looked back at Harry’s flawless alabaster skin, his bright verdant eyes wide and growing dark.

 _What_?

“Harry, love.  Are you...getting a fang boner over Victoria Secret models?”

Harry didn’t answer, he just proceeded to clamber on to Louis’ lap, bringing their clothed cocks together in a beautiful, frenetic grind with not nearly enough friction.

“Fuck, darling.  You — “  Louis saw stars.  No one, in all of his years of existence, has ever been able to get to him like Harry can.  Louis can get hard at the drop of a hat — er, fang, in this case — and can be ready to fuck in even less time.  

And it’s all because of Harry.

Harry cut him off with full lips descending upon his own — the taste of him, the smell of him, incomparable.  Louis hauled Harry into his arms and shot down the hallway with lightning vampire speed before Harry even had a chance to fuck his tongue inside Louis’ mouth.

Within moments, Harry was on the bed naked, panting, a beautiful flush rising up over his chest, his neck...his gorgeous face.  Louis had never seen anything so beautiful.  Not in centuries of living.  He’s seen a lot of beauty over time, over continents and seasons...but Harry, Harry takes the cake.  He’s just always so radiant.  And becoming a vampire has magnified his beauty.  To Louis, it felt like his skin is that much softer, his hair that much more lush and his mouth that much more delicious.  

“Lou…”  Harry’s voice was deep and throaty.  

Louis’ lost his clothes at the sound, most definitely tearing his trackies in the process.  He loved when Harry got like this, wild and full of abandon, completely lost in the moment, lost in the need to have Louis on him, in him, surrounding him.  And was a lot to Louis, too, so much — but Louis managed to survive.  How could he not?  He had waited so long for Harry.  And now that he had him?  He’dl do anything to make him happy.

(Which, is why he’s in the predicament he’s in now.)

Harry didn’t need lube — vampire abilities, and all that — but he liked when Louis opened him up with dripping wet fingers.  Liked the way it feels, loved the semblance of humanity, of careful ritual that it represented to him.  Not before too long, Harry was whimpering against the cool thousand thread count sheets, his body on fire, his soul calling out to Louis to fill him, take him...consume him.

Louis did.  

He pushed in, slow and steady — because Harry liked that too.  He loved to feel Louis enter him like it’s new, like they are consummating their bond for the first time, like they did in the cabin all those years ago.  

He liked it hard and lightening fast sometimes too.  But that’s a story for another time.

Once Louis was completely surrounded by the tight, white-hot heat of Harry (funny that, how vampires can be cold on the exterior — but teeming with impossible, searing heat on the inside), he stilled.  The two of them stared into each other’s eyes, adoration and endless love passing between them.  Louis had never felt a fierce love like this before.  It felt like something fragile, yet unbearably strong at the same time.  He felt like he and Harry, thrown together by circumstance, were still meant to be together in every universe, at every time.   

Louis was lost in feelings of devotion and was on the verge of spewing rambling sonnets and poetry, in _Latin_ , no less, when Harry brought him back to the here and now.  The younger boy — vampire — clenched around Louis and he saw a flash of something — the explosion of red and blue light behind his eyes like a firework display — and he groaned, biting down on Harry’s tender, pale neck.

Harry’s blood was like an elixir of pure magic.  Neither of them drank human blood, at least not regularly, instead choosing to exist on a more...vegetarian diet.  But, they did like sharing each other’s.  Not only did it strengthen their blood bond, but it made sex... _outstanding_ .  It makes Louis feel high and unstoppable and the taste of Harry — paired with the incredible act of fucking him — is like chasing opiates with sunlight or something. And, just like that, like always, Louis just...he lost it.  

“Baby, _Harry_ , baby.  Love you so much — fucking hell.  You feel…”  Not able to finish his own thought, he lapped up the rivulets of strong thick blood from Harry’s neck, the dizzy sensation surging through him like wave after wave of pure pleasure.  

Harry moaned, deep and loud, then grabbed at Louis’ arse and flipped them.  He was stupidly strong, as a new vampire, and manhandled Louis like blowing a feather across a table.  Louis could barely think straight, Harry’s blood flooding his veins like a mighty river so he let him — let Harry just take.

Harry mounted Louis in a sinuous tangle of limbs, and once he was fully seated he ground down in perfect little circles.  He took Louis’ hand in his and brought it to his mouth.  His plump, wet lips wrapped around four of Louis’ fingers and he _sucked_.  Louis pumped up slow and shallow into Harry while Harry nipped at Louis’ fingertips.  Louis could feel Harry sucking blood from the small pinprick wounds.  He loved watching Harry like this — lost in the feeling of Louis, submerging himself in the never ending circle of lust that they shared.

They aren’t exactly newlyweds anymore.  Which is probably why it felt hotter, more _intense_ .  They knew each other so much better now.  They’d been through so much.  And it just made sex, _blood sharing_ , that much more...impassioned.

Harry started to ride Louis in earnest now, and Louis held on to the smooth give of Harry’s butter-soft hips.  Harry was getting close, the roll of his hips less fluid, more frantic.  And then he said it.

“Wanna...wanna see you in…”  He took Louis’ wet, bloodlet hand from his mouth, and dropped it to his own cock.  

Harry was positively _throbbing_ — his dick was so hard, so heavy, it made Louis’ feel like a fucking _god_ , knowing _he_ got Harry like this.  Louis started wanking Harry in time to his thrusts.  Harry ground down, Louis thrusted up, Louis pulled up and then down...it’s an elegant dance that they’d perfected.  And Louis knew that it couldn’t ever be better than this.

“What baby... _what_?”  Louis tried to hold on to the thread, wanted to give Harry whatever he needed, but the demon was taking over, vampire speed coursing through both of them.  Louis felt his cock driving into Harry at a faster and faster speed.  Harry’s curls were bouncing and his mouth was open and Louis just wanted him so much.  All the time.  

Harry leaned forward, trapping his dick between their torsos, Louis’ hand just barely able to swivel over the head and Harry cried out, hoarse and fevered, “Panties!  Lou….wanna see you in…”

And then Louis flipped them again and he filled Harry up and Harry made a mess between them and Louis had fistfuls of Harry’s chestnut hair and Harry pushed Louis deeper, deeper, deeper with heels on his arse and then…

****

Louis stares down at the red panties.  Well, fuck.  That didn’t go as well as he’d hoped.  

He can practically feel the anger seeping through the walls, Harry’s vibrating down the hall with it.  And, sure, it’s been months, but Louis hadn’t been able to forget about it — that one night with Harry and the _declaration_ .  About the _panties_. Louis considers himself kind of a manly man but the thought of panties?  Stretched over his hard cock and watching Harry’s eyes practically pop out of his head?  Especially the part about watching Harry lose it over him in panties?  Well, that’s a lot to get over.

So he’s thought about it.  Probably more than he should have.  

Finally he just did it.  He went to buy them a week ago and was filled with trepidation over it.  Maybe Harry had forgotten?  Maybe he didn’t even realize he’d said it?  But still, Louis couldn’t bring himself to ask Harry about it.  He was waiting for the right time, looking for a sign.  

So.  The panties were shoved in a vase on top of the bookshelf until further notice and Louis had been thinking about them.  Day in and day out.  They were like a spectre hanging over his head, haunting him.  

And then.  The icing.  On the proverbial cake.  

****

Harry came home early from work and Louis was in the hallway talking with one of their neighbors.  It was a well known fact in their complex that Melanie had a _thing_ for Louis.  

Louis thought it was hysterical.

Harry thought it was the most heinous thing in the world.

“Louis.   _Oh.  My.  God_.”  A well manicured hand ran, slowly, over Louis’ bare arm.  He was wearing a tank top and running shorts, very short running shorts, and was barefoot.

Harry rounded the corner and spied them, his eyes growing wide in alarm.  Louis sensed him before he even saw him, could _smell_ him before that.  “Lou?”  His voice was higher than normal, tense.

“Hey babe.  Melanie was just thanking me for bringing up her mail.”  

Harry stared at the two of them and Louis just knew it.  The thing about sharing a blood bond is that you can feel what the other person is feeling.   _Intensely_.  And that, coupled with the intensity of a new vampire’s feelings, thoughts, perceptions...well.  It was going to take some effort to get out of this cleanly.  At least for Melanie.

“Louis.”  Harry’s answer was curt, cold.  

Melanie ran hands over her thin arms and shivered.  Louis could tell it was completely subconscious, but he felt the icy air roll off of Harry.  And he was more than fifteen feet away.  Melanie dragged her eyes up Harry’s torso and then flicked her gaze back to Louis.  You didn’t need to be a mind reader to tell she was imagining a vampire sandwich.  

Out of Louis’ peripheral vision he saw Harry’s arms flex and heard the subtle click of his fangs.   _Oh shit_.  Harry was...jealous.  Jealous Harry could result in a dead Melanie.  

Thinking quickly, Louis gently pushed Melanie away, murmuring, “Alright, love.  See you later then.”

He made it to Harry in milli-seconds, just barely keeping his vampire speed under control.  “Haz.”  He used the most controlling voice he had.  Naturally, it did no good.  

“What is she doing out here?”  Harry said through gritted, fangy, teeth.  As if Melanie didn’t belong in the hallway — the shared common space.

“Just.  Let’s go inside baby.”  Louis stood up on his tiptoes to get Harry’s green eyes locked into his line of vision.  Harry tried to look around him and Louis intercepted him, grabbing on to his cheeks with firm hands.  “Harry.   _Now_.”

As Harry’s maker — knowing Harry couldn’t say no to a direct command — Louis knew he was probably playing dirty.  But desperate times and all that.

They had row over it, of course they did — the insufferable jealousy completely out of line but still, strong and all consuming.  Louis managed to calm Harry down, promising his undying love and...just for good measure...he spent well over an hour eating his boy out until he was a crying mess on a pile of come soaked sheets, shivering and spent and very, very apologetic.  

It was mostly forgotten.  A few gentle ribs from Louis, and a few well-placed comments from Harry, but mostly...forgotten.  

Until tonight.

****

When Harry came home with a bouquet of calla lilies he just _had_ to get from the farmer’s market, he reached up on the bookshelf and, as if in slow motion, Louis saw him discover the lacy red contents inside.  And.   _Oh_.

Harry’s face was a mix of rage and betrayal and _shit_.  Louis knew he should be sensitive, should bend over backwards to explain it all but...it was so funny, was the thing.

The idea that Louis could want anyone besides Harry?  It was ludicrous.  Completely and totally ludicrous.  The idea that Louis would be hiding lacy red panties — expensive lacy red panties — from Harry because he was cheating?  Ridiculous.

Because having Harry was like having the finest, most exquisite, yet completely touchable, accessible piece of art.  Every day.  And he was kind, and smart and so, so passionate.  And he was Louis’ and Louis was his.  Harry’s incredible passion made everything he felt, everything he thought that much more complex — that much more near the surface, ready to just explode at any given moment.

Which, again, is why they are where they are now.  

****

Like a switch flipping, Louis realizes he’s been a complete and utter arse.  He laughed at Harry when Harry needed him most and now, now Harry’s locked in their room and Louis’ out here holding a pair of red lace panties.  And what has his life come to?

There’s really only one way to alleviate this situation.  He has to show Harry.

Sighing, Louis stands up and peels his t-shirt off over his head.  He follows with his jeans and then his underpants.  He even takes off his athletic socks.  And, _christ_ , if his cock isn’t starting to fatten up over this.  

 _Harry_.

Does it to him every time.

Louis shimmies into the panties, pulling the elastic up over his balls and then slowly, slowly, over the swell of his bum.  He walks to the corner of the living room, where a full length mirror stands, and gawks at his reflection.  His skin is milky, the tattoos standing out prominently like onyx against creamy satin.  But the panties... _oh_.  

The panties are lacy and stretched obscenely over his dick, the head of it barely concealed beneath the edge of the elasticized band.  He turns slowly and can see how his crack is shadowy and hidden in the intricate pattern, and _shit_.  He looks hot.  If he does say so himself.

No one ever said he was modest.

Louis floats down the hall and taps politely on the door.  He can hear the fidgety movements of his betrothed behind the solid oak and his fingers itch to hold him, to soothe him.  

His cock wants to have a little something to do with that too.  

“Haz?”  Louis tries to use his most passive voice.  It’s very difficult.  “Baby?”

He hears a grumble.  It’s better than nothing.

“Sweetheart.  Let me...let me explain.  It’s — it’s not what you think.”

Harry shuffles.  But doesn’t come near the door.  Fuck.  He doesn’t want to have to knock the door down, but Louis will if it comes to it.  They already replaced it once, when they got carried away during a particularly rough... _expression_ of love.  

“Haz.  If you’d just open the door…”

He hears a sniff.  Shit.  Is...is Harry crying?   _Ah crap_.

“Baby.  I love you so much.  You...you are my everything.  I’ve waited centuries for you.  You’ve made…”  Louis’ voice cracks, and as corny as it is, he feels his nonexistent heart breaking at the thought of _hurting_ Harry.  “You’ve made all my dreams come true.”

Silence.

“I’d never hurt you.  I’d never cheat on you.  You are it for me Hazza, love.  You’re my moon in the night sky.”  Louis drops his head to the door, the smooth varnish cool and dry on his skin.  

Slowly, like a whisper in the night, Louis hears Harry move across the room.  He stands upright and listens.  The lock clicks.  

Without thinking Louis flings the door open and finds Harry sitting on their bed, his face tear stained and blotchy, a tissue in his hand.  And, as far as dramatic entrances go, this is pretty spectacular, Louis thinks, running his hands down his lace clad hips, watching Harry take him in — take _all_ of him in.

There’s a moment.  A moment where Louis feels victorious, because the look on Harry’s face is priceless.  And then the moment is gone and Harry just...laughs.

And laughs.  And laughs some more.

Louis’ starting to get his feelings a little hurt here.  Because…what the fuck?  He’s wearing _red lacy panties_.  For Harry.  He’d normally never be caught dead in something like these, and Harry’s actually laughing at him?

“ _Harry_.”  Louis tries to reprimand, but his voice comes out strangled, insecure.

Because of the blood bond, because of the blood letting they engage in, Harry knows — he just knows, and, in an instant, he is wrapping Louis up in his arms, laughter fizzling out in the air like an extinguished match.  

“Lou, oh Lou.”  Harry shushes Louis with lips all over his face and hands in his hair and then...like a slow burning flame, he runs his hands down, down, down Louis’ back and fits his palms over the thin, delicate lace. “I was just...I was laughing at myself, baby.  It’s just...you bought those for me? I mean...for you? To _wear for me_? I thought...I’m so stupid. I thought...for someone else...”

Louis is drowning in the depth of Harry’s sea green eyes.  He shakes his head and clings to Harry tighter, pressing himself as close as he can.  He can’t believe Harry could ever think that.

Harry’s hands grip him harder.  His fingers dig into the plump flesh of Louis’ backside and it makes him whine with how good it hurts.  “For you, Hazza.  Only for you,” Louis whispers, gravelly, low.

Harry whispers, filthy, in his ear, “What are you doing here, love?  Trying to kill me — again?  So _fucking hot_ , you are…”  His hands are squeezing and his mouth is hot and insistent, licking, biting, touching him everywhere.

Louis jumps up so he can wrap his legs around Harry’s waist and Harry clutches his arse forcefully, pulling Louis apart in the best way and then he’s drawing Louis closer, so close it’s like they are sharing the same skin.  “For you baby, all for you,”  Louis’ words are swallowed by Harry’s mouth, by the eagerness of his kiss.

Harry groans and takes two big steps backward and falls to the bed, hauling Louis with him.  “But why Lou?  Why — “

Louis sits up, straddling Harry as Harry slides backward, his long legs still hanging off the bed.  “I remember you said…”  

Harry smirks and eyes him lasciviously.  “I did.  I _remember_.  The Victoria’s Secret thing…”

“ _Yeah_.”

Harry is breathless all already and Louis feels so, so lucky that he gets to do this with Harry.  It’s such an honor to have Harry in his bed, in his life.  “I’m sorry — I just.  I get so jealous sometimes.”  Harry turns his head, looking embarrassed.

Louis tilts his face back so that he can look into Harry’s eyes, so that he can reassure him with his words, his touch...with his eyes.  He’s the most important thing.  He is.

“I know, baby.  I know.  But you have to know, don’t you?  There’s no one else for me.”  Louis leans down and molds their lips together in a slow, burning kiss.  Harry’s hands are everywhere and Louis can feel him growing harder underneath him, Harry’s big cock grows and finds its way into the crevasse between his cheeks.  The lace feels abrasive and so good, burning against the tender skin, scraping at his rim.  

“I know, I know.”  Harry murmurs, running his lips down Louis’ neck.  His teeth graze Louis’ pulse point and Louis gasps out at the sensation of it — it goes right to his dick.  Always does.

“Do you —” Louis half says, half moans as a sharp incisor draws a bead of blood.  “Do you like them?”

Harry rocks up so that Louis can feel just how much he likes the red panties — the surprise gift for him, just for him.  “Pretty sure that’s a yes.”  Louis says, grinding back.  

“Sorry,” Harry says, flipping them easily and tearing his own clothes off.  They really should buy stock in a few clothing companies — the way they rip things up around here.  “Sorry I called you a...bloodsucker.”

Louis grabs a hold of Harry’s cock, amazed, as always at the perfect weight of it in his palm.  “I forgive you darling...but only because it’s true... _I am_ a bloodsucker”  

Sinking his fangs into Harry’s soft, soft neck feels like a revelation.  Feels like forgiveness.  Tastes like forever.  

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Authors love notes (wink, wink)!


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